Not Impossible, Just Unlikely
by AnnCarter
Summary: "How many times have you saved me, Clara? Just this once, just for the hell of it, let me save you." -Eleven. What happens when the Eleventh Doctor finds out he's about to not only lose, but also forget his Impossible Girl? He sets out to save her, of course. With or without Twelve's cooperation. (Post "Hell Bent")
1. Prologue

_All rights for Doctor Who are the BBC's. I own nothing._

 **AN:** I'm terribly sorry if there are any odd mistakes - this is what happens when you're posting through your iPhone. I've gone over it more than once, but still, it if happens... (If they ever bother getting a proper app...)

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Prologue:

As the Doctor - the Twelfth one, mind you, even though he was really the fourteenth, and don't tell him I said that - walked down Baker Street, he found himself searching for a house. It was a specific house, even though he couldn't remember which one it was. He couldn't remember what was so special about it or why he was looking for it; the only thing he knew was that the moment he'd see it, he'll know.

The words _Time Heals_ popped into his brain, but he shoved them aside. Why they suddenly came into his mind was a mystery, as much of a mystery as the reason he was searching for this house was. _Was it something to do with Sherlock Holmes?_ He found himself wondering briefly before dismissing the idea. Vastra had nothing to do with the place, at least as far as he knew. I grinned - he couldn't be more wrong. She was the one who told me where to wait.

But back to the Twelfth one, anyway; the moment he thought about Vastra, something was stirred inside him. He spent the last dozen months trying to remember who this Clara was to him, but for nothing. He knew she was important, but couldn't remember her or anyone who had anything to do with her.

Until now.

 _Was it Vastra who called me?_ He had to dismiss that idea as well. The call was unique; it was someone who knew him even better than the Silurian - and god knows she knew him rather well. There were very few who knew him as well as she did. But if it wasn't a reaction to the call, it had to have been about his mysterious companion whom he couldn't remember.

His thoughts were all cut off when he found himself staring at a simple building in the end of the street. The way he knew he was called to that place, he knew that was the house he was searching for. There was something about that house... Some feeling that made the Doctor believe there was something or someone unique in there. Something familiar.

I could practically sense his thoughts. Familiar. He couldn't understand just how right he was.

Cautiously - well, for the first two and a half minutes, as he couldn't keep it up for more than that, and if you're asking me, that's rather long for us - he moved towards the building. In his right pocket his hand was holding his sonic screwdriver, ready for trouble. He could always... assemble some cabinets at whoever was in there.

"No, no, no, it's a terrible idea!" He suddenly heard from inside the house. It was as if the voice was responding to his own thoughts - which, mind you, I _was_ \- which made him take a step back in suspicion. "Oh, come on in here already!"

 _He can't be talking to me, can he?_ The Doctor wondered, again walking towards the house.

I was beginning to grow impatient. "Of course I can, it makes perfect sense!"

He stopped. Something didn't seem right. How could this man, whoever he was, be talking to him? Of course, he'd encountered a similar situation when he and Martha ended up in the past after their encounter with the Weeping Angels. But then, that was as if the man was responding to his thoughts - and there-

"Would you come in already?"

Deciding that caution clearly wasn't going to get him anywhere, the Doctor gave up and walked into the house.

That's where he saw me.

"Took you long enough. Ugh, too old. I really wanted not to be old." He stared at me, completely shocked. "Never mind, I guess you can't always get what you want. Well, sit down, will you? I don't have all day."

Still staring at me, he sat down in front of me on the only other couch in the room. For a moment I wondered why he's as shocked as he seems to be, before I remembered how shocked I was when the Warrior landed in front of me and the Doctor - well, the Tenth Doctor, that is. The last time he saw me was, after all, on Trenzalore.

So I grinned. "Geronimo!"


	2. Questions That Can't Be Answered

Chapter 1:

I gave him almost three minutes - to be precise, it was two minutes and fifty-three seconds - to process the situation before I spoke again.

"So. Clara Oswald."

"How?"

He was completely shocked, and I almost started laughing. I could certainly understand why the Warrior seemed so calm when he saw us, as opposed to how we felt. It _was_ rather funny, expecting to be meeting him but seeing how surprised he was. Of course, I could understand how he felt, but then again-

"How can you be here?" He asked, cutting my thoughts off. "More-"

"-to the point, why am I here?" I joked, remembering my meeting with the Tenth Doctor – if you don't mind, for the purpose of simplicity, I'll refer to him as 'Ten' – and the Warrior.

He didn't follow, even though I know he remembered it. "What are you doing here?" He asked, still serious.

I turned serious. When I called Clara from Trenzalore I thought the only thing I didn't like about him was that he's grey; now I realised there was more to it than just that. He was _too_ serious. "I'm here to help you find Clara," I replied. "Well, I suppose you'd have to remember her first, but yeah, then we'll save her."

"You knew her?" He asked cautiously.

"Of course I did." I didn't want to say we wouldn't have been here without her, not just yet. I needed to ease him into the idea. "We've met her in the Dalek asylum."

He frowned. "The Dalek asylum," He repeated slowly. "That was when we still travelled with the Ponds."

 _So he's not as serious as he pretends to be,_ I thought, studying him silently for a moment. He was looking at me, eyebrows furrowed together, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He seemed overly serious, but then, he called them 'The Ponds'. He was still me. Us. The Doctor, that is.

"It was," I agreed. "But that was when we first met her. You see, it wasn't quite her, but that was the first time we noticed her, so you could say it's the first time we met her." I scratched the top of my head, a habit I know I got from Ten. "Although technically the first time was when we stole the TARDIS, and the first time we've met _real_ Clara was when she called us-"

"You still haven't answered my question," He said, cutting me off. I hated when people did that. "How are you here?"

"Well... You could say it's a tiny bit of a..." _Don't say timey-whimey._ "Stretch of the rules of time." His eyes narrowed again. "That's not the point. Look, I'm here for Clara. She's saved us too many times to give up on her now. If anything... We owe it to her."

He studied me for a long moment that felt like eternity. I could practically hear the questions running through his mind – well, _my_ mind – about how I'm there and why this Clara is so important. Of course, she was our companion, so she had to have been more important to us than others, but it was even more than that. I couldn't understand how he could possibly go on after losing all memories of her; she was too deeply intertwined with our past to be able to forget _just_ her. Forgetting her meant, for the most part, forgetting parts of our past. It _was_ easier, true, especially with all we had to remember, but it was far too much. Even for us.

"Look, Clara... She's our Impossible Girl," I continued, seeing as he had no plans to speak. "She saved us. More times than I can say. And we've known her for too long to just move on after something like that. Actually, I'm surprised you remember our past at all," I admitted, "Considering all the Claras you had to have forgotten."

"Claras?" He asked, stressing the fact it was plural.

I nodded briefly. "Look, it's a long story, and I don't really have the time for it. I need to be back on Trenzalore soon. Then I'll regenerate and you know what happens next, but before that, we have to save her." If he was near me, I'd have tapped his forehead. "And your memories," I added.

"If she's so important to us, how could I forget her in the first place?"

I rolled my eyes. I always had a habit of focusing on the wrong things, except only now that I was short on time I understood how annoying it really was. "I don't know what stupid thing you did that caused that," I replied sarcastically, "But if there's anything we can do, it's something _that_ stupid." He glared at me, even though he didn't even seem to notice he did that. "Now, we've got to move. Fast. So are you coming or you're gonna let me do this alone?"

He looked at me silently for a long moment, considering his options. I knew he was curious about Clara and wanted to know more about her, but at the same time, he knew whatever I had in mind had to have been risky. On the other hand, 'risky' never bothered us much, and knowing my habit of rushing into things before thinking, I had a feeling he'd rather be there with me instead of letting my run around alone. It was hardly fair, considering I was the Doctor and could still be serious and responsible, but I wasn't gonna argue over that now. Not when that might just be the thing to convince him to come.

"How are you planning to do this?" He asked eventually, still studying me seriously.

I shrugged. "First I suppose we should find out what you did to your memories," I replied casually. "Then we're gonna reverse it. Then we'll save Clara and I'll go back to Trenzalore, regenerate and end up doing whatever it is you were doing afterwards."

He said nothing for a long moment before nodding briefly. "One last question." He stopped me as I got up and turned towards my TARDIS. I turned back to look at him questioningly. "How did you find out?"

I smiled. "The Impossible Girl, of course," was all I said before heading into my TARDIS, leaving the door open behind me for him to come in.


End file.
